Walking through a Winter Wonderland (and Hating Everything)
by epicpickleninja
Summary: Newt is angry and cold during a late night fire drill. Minho makes it better. Minewt
1. Fuck Everything

"Fuck everything," Newt swore. "Why now? Why bloody now? If it's because of someone burnt chicken again I swear to God..."

"Is he okay?" Thomas muttered, nodding at Newt.

"He's just a tad cold," Alby said, eyeing his hastily bundled roommate.

"Of course, I'm fucking cold," Newt said. "There's bloody snow on the ground, our college is in a fucking _wind tunnel_, and some dumbass decided to fucking set off the fire alarm at 2 in the fucking morning."

"Also you only grabbed a blanket and boots before you left," Alby added helpfully.

"I will fucking stab you in the face," Newt snapped.

"He's very disorientated when he wakes up," Alby tells Thomas conversationally. "Doesn't make the best decisions, but at least it leaves him in a cheery mood."

"Fuck you," Newt said. "You bloody should've thrown a jacket in my face before we left. You call yourself my roommate. You disgust me."

"But I'm the roommate with the key to our room," Alby said, dangling keys from his finger.

Newt glared. "I hate everything."

"You're a cheery ball of sunshine," Minho said, jogging over. Their stupidly attractive RA slowed a few feet from them, his sleep-tousled, but probably still unfairly perfect, hair peeking under his beanie. Newt had the worst crush on him at the beginning of the semester. And then Minho warmed up to them and revealed he actually knew how to hold long conversations. It was then made apparent what a gigantic fucking dork he is. And Newt's crush grew to unfair proportions. It was almost impressive.

A gust of wind slapped him in the face. Newt shivered under his blanket. He hated the cold. He eyed Minho's puffy jacket and gloves enviously. "Don't talk to me about sunshine. It's bloody freezing."

"I never noticed," the Asian boy drawled, hopping in place. He looked like an idiot. An idiot who should give Newt his beanie or scarf or jacket or entire body so Newt could cuddle against him and steal Minho's warmth. Newt was not picky.

Thomas huddled against Alby. "I should have brought out my car keys," Thomas said wistfully, staring at the nearby parking lot. Other students planned ahead and were sitting cozily in their running cars. Newt despised them. Everything was so grating.

"You should have," Newt agreed. Perhaps too bitterly because Thomas was glaring at him, but Newt couldn't bring himself to care.

"You're the last one who should be getting on me for not planning ahead," Thomas said, staring pointedly as Newt wrapped the blanket around himself defensively. Newt stuck his tongue out. He was trying to forget that all he had under his blanket were sweat pants and a ratty t-shirt.

"Are you okay?" Minho asked, raising his eyebrow. "Your face might get hypothermia."

"That's not how hypothermia works," Newt said. His teeth were chattering. Of course, it's not like he's surprised. Where were the fire trucks? They had to clear the building so Newt could go back to the heat. Heat. Mmm yes. Cold was stabbing him everywhere. He was not prepared for this fucking single digit temperature. Next time, he would have a jacket, any jacket would be an improvement. Or maybe he would actually start a fire. That way he had a heat source instead of the wind steadily stealing the little warmth he had.

"Here," Minho said, moving to take off his jacket. Newt's eyes grew wide. Minho wasn't actually supposed to gallantly give up his jacket. Blood rushed to his face. Course, his face was flushed anyway from the cold—apparently cold had another use besides to make everyone miserable.

"No, you'll freeze," Newt protested.

"Dude, you have no layers on," Minho said.

"Your chest will get hypothermia."

"I thought you just said hypothermia didn't work that way."

"I'm trying to speak your language."

"Cute."

"I try."

"You succeed."

Newt coughed, glancing away from Minho embarrassedly. Alby was openly grinning at Newt's predicament. Bloody wanker. He refused to let Minho distract him. "But—"

"Relax," Minho rolled his eyes as if Newt was being the outrageous one. "I have another jacket underneath this one."

"You have _two _jackets on? Why?"

Minho shrugged. "I was still up trying to do biology homework. I may have been watching Breaking Bad instead. But I had enough time and awareness to plan ahead and prepare for the cold. It is nearly winter."

"It's not nearly winter. Thanksgiving hasn't bloody happened yet," Newt said. "Thanksgiving means fall. So this weather is premature. It's not rocket science."

"Do you even celebrate Thanksgiving?" Minho asked, frowning.

Newt rolled his eyes. "I moved here when I was 12. I'm not completely obtuse to American customs. We Brits do like to eat so why would we ignore Thanksgiving?"

Minho may have flushed. It was impossible to tell. He pushed his puffy jacket into Newt's arms. "Just take it."

Newt eagerly slipped it on, he didn't need to be told twice. Minho would be warm because he refused to be caught on unprepared during fire alarms apparently. He frowned, swearing when the zipper got caught. Minho smirked as he reached over to zip Newt up. He flushed, not meeting the Asian's amused gaze.

"Still cold?"

"Well, _yes_," Newt drawled. "Your lovely jacket is not an instant cure for cold, I'm afraid. It takes time for it to actually trap body heat and—" Newt did not squeak when Minho yanked him forward, easily wrapping his arms around Newt as his face squashed against Minho's chest.

"I'll help."

Newt sputtered. "You can't just pull me around like a...a..."

"Do you want me to let go?"

Newt burrowed further into Minho. They touched occasionally—they were friends, after all—but never anything so close to cuddling. Newt was more than willing to take advantage of it.

"...I'll take that as a no?"

"You don't have to sound so bloody smug," Newt muttered, pressing his face against Minho's neck.

Minho hissed. "Your nose is cold."

"Good, you deserve it."

"After all the effort I went through to warm you up? Some thanks I get."

Newt bit back his snarky retort. Minho was being insanely nice. He was getting the raw end of the deal here really. "I am grateful."

"I know you are," Minho murmured, snuggling his face against Newt's hair. He felt himself melt into Minho's touch. Cold still bit at his legs and back, but everywhere Minho pressed against felt toasty. Of course, that could be his wishful thinking and his slight crush of the large variety on Minho. He could ignore a lot when Minho was holding him, Newt discovered.

Including wailing sirens.

Newt had not been prepared for the whack to the back of his head. He whined and then let a satisfied smirk cross his face as he felt Minho turn and glare at the offending person.

"The building has been cleared," Alby said. "Come on, love birds."

Newt held up his middle finger. Alby laughed. He hated his roommate. But Alby had the keys so he couldn't kill him, which was unfortunate. Unless Newt killed him and then stole the keys. That was a much simpler solution. Newt was fond of it instantly.

He reluctantly removed himself from Minho. Fuck he had really been plastered against him. How embarrassing. At least, Minho seemed equally displeased at their separation. Of course, that might have to do with Newt acting as a personal space heater. Once Newt warmed up enough to reciprocate Minho's body heat anyway. Newt flashed Minho an awkward grin before trudging slowly back towards the building. Minho was a few steps behind.

The heat in the building wrapped around Newt like a blanket. But he still found himself longing to be outside, cuddled around Minho. Newt shook his head. Disgusting. His bloody infatuation made him want to suffer through cold for Minho. Newt hated the cold, despised it. He sighed. He was becoming quite pathetic. His gaze slipped back towards the Asian. Minho smirked.

Newt refused to acknowledge the blush that heated his face. He stopped outside of Minho's door, watching as Alby continued down the hall with Thomas until he reached his and Newt's room. Alby better bloody leave the door unlocked.

"Um...here's your coat," Newt said, as eloquently as ever. "Thanks again for...all that."

"No problem," Minho said, taking his jacket back. "You can make it up to me."

Newt cocked an eyebrow. His gaze shifted from the ground to Minho's face. Minho looked smug again. "That sounds ominous."

"It's not," Minho said.

"Why are you so smug? I don't trust your face right now."

"I was just thinking I could take you out to a concert of that one band you talked about," Minho said, scratching his hair. He tugged his beanie off his head, his matted hair soon returning to their usual style once Minho ran a quick hand through it. Oh fuck. Minho was talking to him and being sweet and awkward and _remembering something Newt said in passing once_ and Newt was over here bloody fantasizing about Minho's bloody hair. "They're playing this weekend and I thought that you could come. We could go together. If you wanted to—"

"Stop," Newt said, holding up a hand. Fuck, he never heard Minho nervously ramble before. It was adorable. Minho stared up at him with wide eyes, his usual confidence draining away the longer Newt stared at him. Right, _words_. "Yes."

Minho blinked before a slow grin spread across his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Newt agreed, a smile matching Minho's.

"About time!" a yell echoed down the hall, coincidentally ruining their moment. Minho and Newt whipped around to see Jeff wave as a grinning Thomas pulled his roommate into their dorm.

"Bloody wankers all of them," Newt said, staring down the hall.

"Yeah," Minho said fondly, "I like them."

"What terrible taste you have."

"I like _you_."

Newt ignored his fluttering stomach. "I'm the one exception to your terrible taste. I'm fantastic. Good on you."

Minho snorted.

"And I like you obviously."

Minho preened. "Really?"

"Obviously," Newt enunciated.

"Not really."

Newt frowned. "You sure? The lads teased me from day one about how flustered I got around you."

"I was never really sure," Minho admitted. "You're quite sarcastic."

"Not that sarcastic."

"Whatever you say, babe."

"Are we already at the pet name stage of our relationship? We haven't even been on a date yet."

"Yes, but I feel like there was a hall betting pool on when we would finally get together."

Newt hummed. "Then let's be obnoxious about it, darling."

"That's what I was saying, pookiebear."

"Sugar."

"Bae."

"Boytoy."

"Puddingpop."

"Buttercup."

"As you wish."

"Such a nerd I bloody swear," Newt said, his mocking tone probably completely countered by his grin.

"Nerd enough to get the Game of Thrones facts wrong until you're irritated enough to correct me," Minho teased.

Newt rolled his eyes. "It's because you should bloody _know_ better. We watched the entire third season together."

Minho shrugged, smirking.

"You're useless."

Minho's smirk widened. "Aren't you glad that the fire alarm happened?"

"What? No, I hate the cold," Newt instantly protested. "And people's stupidity and being forced to leave my bed—"

"Yes but look at us."

Newt hummed, blatantly checking Minho out. Minho blushed prettily and Newt barely—as in not at all—hid his glee. "You'll do, I suppose."

"You say the sweetest things."

"You're lucky to have me."

Minho snorted. "But good start to the day, yeah?"

Newt's smile softened. "Definitely."


	2. Fuck You

Minho stretched, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. And he never was happy in the mornings. He wasn't as homicidal as Newt, but waking up fully content and ready to take on the world? Yeah, not a normal feeling he associated with waking up.

Of course, not every morning was the day after finally asking out the boy he had been pining over for a month and a half. Brenda and Jorge could finally stop leering at him. And as soon as they even hinted at liking someone, Minho was going to be ruthless.

Also, today was a snow day. So great day all around.

And, morally, the only way he could utilize this extra day was by lying around doing nothing. He had no choice. Minho snuggled into his pillow before turning his head and cracking open an eye.

His laptop charger was against the wall. One perk about being RA was that he had no roommate, the downside of that was that he had no potentially nice roommate that would grab his shit from the other side of the room AKA more than four feet from his bed. His laptop was dying and he may have woken up content with life, but that didn't mean he was willing to leave his cocoon of blankets. The heat (or lack thereof) in the dorm buildings left much to be desired.

He was in a predicament.

His door knob jerked. Minho may have jumped and tumbled out of his bed with a tangle of blankets. An irritated sigh was heard in the hallway.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Minho smirked. He could think of only a few people that could be. And by a few, he meant hopefully one.

_Knock, knock._

"Open the bloody door!"

Minho grinned, kicking off a particularly twisted sheet. "But I'm so comfortable in my bed."

Newt's silence sounded supremely unimpressed.

"And it's too early for this."

"It's noon," Newt said dryly through the door.

"Exactly!" Minho exclaimed, dumping his blankets on the bed and shoving his dirty clothes against the wall. Newt had seen his room in worse state, but that was _before_. He wanted Newt to be comfortable. Of course, everything else was still in a disorganized heap...Minho shrugged. Newt's room would be the same state as his if Alby wasn't OCD.

"Minho..."

"Newt, babe, I would move for you, but...effort," Minho said, drifting towards the door.

"Oh, fuck you."

Minho slammed the door open, dragging a startled Newt inside. "If you insist."

"Shank, you were waiting for that," Newt muttered, not resisting too much as Minho shut the door behind them and tugged Newt towards his bed. Newt was still in his PJs and his hair was matted to the right side of his face. He looked adorable.

"No, really?"

"Shut up," Newt said, no heat behind his words. He instantly burrowed in Minho's warm blankets. Minho subtly tested the recently-developed boyfriend waters by wrapping his arms around the perpetually cold Newt and folding in on him. Newt snuggled back so Minho counted it as a success.

"Not that I'm complaining," Minho said, wrapping a leg around Newt. Newt nestled impossibly closer, "I'm just surprised you walked through the cold hallway to get here."

Newt hummed. "Alby left to get food."

"Ah," Minho said, frowning. He's sure that answers his question somehow, but he would rather continue cuddling Newt than analyze it too much. Alby probably went to the cafeteria. It was a few hundred yards away from the dorms and remained open despite the snow day. College kids still had to eat.

"To the cafeteria." Bingo. Minho should be a detective.

"I figured," Minho mumbled, nuzzling Newt's bed head.

"That's outside."

"The cafeteria is indoors."

"The building is outside."

"Yeah...?"

Newt huffed. "Feed me."

"Oh, you're using me."

"Obviously," Newt said. "I'm not walking through snow and ice."

Minho smirked, running a soothing hand down Newt's arm. "Why do you hate the snow so much?"

Newt turned so they were face-to-face. His warm breath puffed on Minho's face as he sighed. Minho bit back a grin. Newt's hair was sticking up everywhere. It made for a great picture. Shame his phone was on his desk, assuming of course he could either make Newt oblige to have his photo taken or distract him. God, Minho was already going to be the half of the couple that wanted to photograph everything. He could already tell. "Because it's cold. I have no desire to be cold. Cold kills people. Have you heard about Buffalo? They got eight feet of snow and now they're worried about floods because that amount of snow is fucking unnatural. Snow is evil. Cold is evil. So. I avoid it or bundle up."

Minho chuckled. "You're cute when you're angry."

Newt scowled—adorably—flicking a piece of hair out of his face. "I'm not _cute_."

"You really are."

"No."

"_Yes_. I'm allowed to comment on your physical appearance with no repercussions now," Minho said. "It's rule 36 of the Boyfriend Contract."

"Alright," Newt said. "Then let's talk about your hair."

"My hair?"

Newt nodded. "Your hair is unbelievably vexing. I don't understand it."

Minho blinked, running a hand through his hair. "Vexing?"

"Yes! Did you just wake up?"

Minho nodded hesitantly.

"Fucking knew it," Newt said triumphantly. "Your hair is so effortlessly perfect all the time. I don't know if it's an Asian thing or a Minho thing but not everybody rolls out of bed with model hair. Some people have to work at it."

Minho preened. "Isn't your 'working at it' running a comb through it?"

"Shut up, your hair looks all stylized and shit. Like you put effort into it. It's unfair."

Minho shrugged. "Some people got it, some people don't. Don't worry, babe, I'll still accept you and your peasant hair."

Newt made a point of ruffling Minho's hair and then glaring at the result. Minho smiled innocently. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because I have food?"

"...I can't fight that logic."

"It is brilliant logic," Minho rolled out of bed, not smothering his laugh when Newt rolled with him. Newt practically convulsed when the cold hit him and quickly burrowed back under the blankets.

Newt glared at him over the blankets. "Shut up."

"Didn't say anything," Minho said, grabbing a pizza box from the fridge and then tossing his laptop charger closer to his bed. Newt, because he is a lovely person, caught the charger and plugged it into Minho's laptop. He grinned, situating the pizza box on the foot of the bed and leaned over Newt. Newt raised an eyebrow as Minho caged him in with his arms but didn't otherwise react. "You're brilliant, by the way."

"You're lu—"

Minho cut Newt off with a kiss, grinning at Newt's startled expression. Surprising Newt was quickly becoming his favorite pastime. He cupped Newt's cheek, tilting his head for a better angle. Newt's lips just began moving against his own when Minho rolled to his side of the bed with a departing, obnoxious smack of lips. Newt frowned at the lack of contact. Minho smiled softly, tangling their fingers together as he grabbed his paper towel roll.

"Oh, it's already like that, huh?" Newt drawled, wrapping Minho's arm over his shoulder.. "We haven't even gone on a date yet."

"This could be considered a date. You _are_ using me for food."

"Details," Newt dismissed, grabbing a slice of pepperoni.

"Wait, how did you know I had food?"

Newt rolled his eyes. "You have an escape plan in mind in case the zombie apocalypse breaks out while we're in college. I felt like assuming you had food when you knew snow was in the forecast was not that much of a leap."

"It's good to be prepared," Minho defended.

"I didn't say it wasn't."

"Double negative, English major," Minho teased. "So you did mean to say it was?"

"Your plans are very good," Newt enunciated. "Better for you?"

"I wasn't the one who butchered the English language."

"I did not _butcher_ the English language. You're so dramatic."

Minho put a hand over his heart. "Excusez-moi?"

Newt's unimpressed expression was ruined by his twinkling eyes. "What do I see in you?"

"Perfect hair."

Minho probably should have expected the pillow shoved in his face and, considering that Newt wasn't even an inch away, the pillow stung more than what Minho thought was strictly necessary. Newt patted Minho's head after he collapsed on the bed, smirking at his pout.

"Pizza?" Newt offered innocently.

"You're asking me if I want my own pizza?"

"Yep."

"Give me a slice. We're watching Netflix."

"You're such a diva," Newt said, tossing a slice at Minho's face as he reached for his laptop.

"Aww thanks, babe," Minho said, lifting the greasy pizza off his cheek.

"No problem, darling. So what do you want to—gross, stop. _Why_?"

"You put grease on my face, I put grease on you. I have to keep the moneymaker clean."

Newt wiped his arm off with a nearby towel. "Disgusting."

"Karma is a bitch."

"Apparently," Newt said before frowning. "Why are all inanimate objects girls?"

"To be fair, living objects can also be girls."

"You're not helpful."

"I learn from the best."

Newt rolled his eyes. Minho smirked. "So what are we watching?"

"Netflix."

Newt sighed. "Why must you do this?"

"I only try to help," Minho insisted.

"Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"Do you have trust issues?" Minho mused, wrapping around Newt from his reclining position. Sitting up seemed like so much effort right now. And Newt was so comfortable. "We can talk about our feelings if you want."

Newt ran a hand through Minho's hair. "You're really not as funny as you think you are."

"Don't worry. Even if I'm half as funny as I think I am, I'm still hilarious."

Newt snorted. "Whatever you want to believe, darling."

"Thanks for the sincerity, babe."

"Hey," Newt said, pushing Minho's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet, "I'm here for you."

"When the rain starts to pour?"

Newt's eyes suddenly widened, jerking up to type on Minho's laptop. Minho squawked at his pillow's abrupt departure. "We're watching Friends. Friends is on Netflix, right?"

"Maybe?"

"No, why," Newt said distressed after a few seconds of rapid typing. "It doesn't come on Netflix until January. _January_. And, despite what the weather thinks, it's not even winter yet."

Minho wrapped an arm around Newt, crowding behind him so he could hook his chin over Newt's shoulder. "Want to watch it illegally online somewhere?"

Newt turned his face, capturing Minho's lips briefly before sliding off the bed. "Definitely."

"Where are you going?" Minho asked, frowning. He was not whining. He was merely concerned why his boyfriend escaped his grasp with only a peck on the lips. It wouldn't be retaliation from earlier...probably. He extended a beckoning hand. "Come back to bed."

Newt smirked but kept out of Minho's reach. "I'm getting hot chocolate from my room, which is an appropriate beverage for a Friends marathon."

"You're moving for me? Through the cold hallways?"

Newt spun around at Minho's door, his cheeky grin not quite covering the fondness in his eyes. "You're worth it."

Minho flushed at Newt's impish grin as he turned the knob and left. Their relationship isn't even 24 hours old and Minho felt giddy. He always had the nagging worry that the transition from friends to more would be awkward but everything felt so _natural_. Thank God for snow and late night fire alarms. He was hoping to keep Newt for a long time.

The door jerked in its lock. Minho laughed as loud swears erupted from the hallway.

"Stop locking your bloody door. I was gone for maybe th—"

Minho grinned, yanking Newt in his room, cutting off his rants with a kiss.


End file.
